


Recollection

by Dancains



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 22:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3955027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancains/pseuds/Dancains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She didn't know why she had held such strangely high expectations for her meeting with Mayor Madeleine. Maybe some unconscious feeling that there would be some sort of kinship between two women in positions of relative power. <i>How ridiculous</i>, she chided herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recollection

The first time Javert was scheduled to meet with the new mayor, she found the office door half open, and couldn't help but pause for a moment on the threshold. This was the woman who had been the talk of the town since her recent election--by a landslide victory, no less-- and though Javert had seen her photo in the paper and seen a feature about her on the local news, she had yet to see Mayor Madeleine in the flesh.

It had struck her that many news outlets had almost been more caught up on her status as a single working mother, or the fact that she was the first female mayor of their small but influential city, than on her actual policies or her background. It also seemed that not much at all had been written about where she had come from before her arrival in Montreuil-sur-Mer only a few years ago. _Not_ that the police inspector was looking in to it, or took any particular interest in the mayor's past. Still, to Javert, this Madeleine already cut an enigmatic figure.

The office itself was starkly clean and organized, though sparsely decorated, with what looked like an artificial plant in one corner and a few framed photos and certificates on the back wall. The woman in question sat behind her desk, head bowed as her eyes darted steadily across the stapled pages of what was undoubtedly some dull but necessary city ordinance or another. Her face was almost hidden from view by long curtains of wavy, dark hair streaked with gray at the temples. It was a small detail, perhaps, but one that was still noted by Javert, a woman who had never considered dyeing her own hair to maintain some semblance of youth or beauty, and found herself with a head of short, almost entirely silver hair at the age of 45. Breaking herself from her own silent observations, she coughed discreetly into her fist to get the mayor's attention.

After seconds that felt like eons, Madeleine took notice of Javert. Squinting, her brows knitted together in an almost imperceptible look of what was unmistakably...revulsion, which was gone in a flash, quickly smoothed into complete placidity.

It was small, swift gesture, one that might pass unnoticed by a pair of less trained eyes. But Javert was not unacquainted with unfriendly glances. It wasn't a surprising fact of life than many people didn't like a woman with a buzz cut and a badge. She didn't know why she had held such strangely high expectations for her meeting with Mayor Madeleine. Maybe some unconscious feeling that there would be some sort of kinship between two women in positions of relative power. _How ridiculous_ , she chided herself.

She introduced herself, her posture akin to a soldier at attention, though internally feeling deflated.

"Oh, Inspector. Come in, please," She gestured to a seat, her eyes not fully meeting Javert's. "I've heard a great deal about you, actually. I was wondering when we would formally be acquainted."

Javert cleared her throat in a way that she hoped didn't sound nervous. "I suppose I could say the same to you."

_Fuck_ , thought Javert as she drew closer. Immediately she tried to quell the unpleasant fluttering sensation he felt in the pit of her stomach. From up close, it was evident that the snapshot in the paper hadn't done her justice. Madeleine had an understatedly regal look to her, with long lashes and prominent cheekbones. She was beautiful without looking fragile, and the deep lines at the corners of her eyes did nothing to detract from her looks. Whereas this woman seemed to barely look at Javert, she couldn't seem to look away. The irony wasn't lost on Javert.

As the clock ticked on, their brief meeting passed as any other would. The mayor had a cool, professional manor, but was not specifically unfriendly. Gradually, she began to look more at Javert than at her own steepled hands. When it was time for Javert to leave she rose from her chair, shook her hand, and held the door for her.

She didn't hear the door close until she had reached the elevator at the end of the drab hallway. She felt the sensation of probing eyes burning into her back.

The rest of her day passed in a haze. It appeared that the only change that had come with her recent promotion, besides the title itself, was more and more paperwork. It was especially trying when she really preferred to work on her feet, or do something more physical, or at least, something less monotonous. It was late by the time she got back to her apartment. She fed he cat, and contemplated going to the gym before deciding it was too late in the evening if she wanted to get anything near a decent night of sleep.

That night she dreamt of a place she hadn't been to since what felt like a lifetime ago. Uniform buttoned up to her throat and keys jangling at her belt, she patrolled a long corridor bathed in shadows. On either side of her, women's hands reached out towards her through the bars of cells, while their owners' ghastly faces peered out from behind them. As usual, her rounds were met with jeers, shrieks, whistles, and cat-calls from the inmates. She was well accustomed to it, and didn't so much as flinch. 

Without thinking, her feet brought her to one cell in particular, near the end of the long hallway. The single woman encaged there didn't react to Javert, didn't respnd at all to the chaos around her. Almost unnervingly, she didn't make a single sound as she did push-ups on the cold, stained cement floor. Javert stood, almost mesmerized, counting the repetitions, taking in the woman's shaved head and the muscular sinew of her arms, arms that deceptively held even more strength than could be see. 

After what was minutes or hours, the convict stood, wiping calloused hands on the coarse materiel of her orange jumpsuit. Her eyes met Javert's defiantly, almost as if in challenge. Just as the woman approached the cool metal bars that stood as the only barrier between them, mouth open as if finally daring to speak, Javert woke in a cold sweat, with the jarring sound of an alarm clock ringing in her ears.


End file.
